


Just like family

by syrenpan



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood Magic, Bromance, Comedy, Demon fighting, Feels, Friendship, Garrett Hawke - Freeform, No not at all, Other, Post-Trespasser, Rescue Mission, UST but not Alistair and Morrigan, definitely not Alistair/Morrigan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenpan/pseuds/syrenpan
Summary: Missingnolovefic prompted me to write about Varric's and Hawke's friendship.It is Dragon 9:45. Four years ago, Garrett Hawke stayed behind in the Fade to save the world. But Varric is not willing to give up on his best friend if there is even the slightest chance he may have survived. Together with some old acquaintances, he sets out on a crazy rescue mission to bring the Champion of Kirkwall back to the world of the living.Note: Morrigan and Alistair are definitely not in love in this fic. Not even hate/love. Not at all.PS: Ignore the mistakes, I'll edit it later.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missingnolovefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/gifts).



**Dragon 9:45 Satinalia - 1st Firstfall**

The quill stopped scratching on the parchment. There was no sound, just a subtle shift in the air, making the candles flicker when the hooded figure entered the Viscount’s private chamber through the window.

“You could have just used the front door, Daisy,” Varric chuckled, even before he turned around to greet his old friend.

Merrill pulled her hood back. If Varric was surprised to see her face unmarked by vallaslin, he didn’t show it.

“After all, I asked you to come, didn’t I?”

“It’s good to see you again,” she smiled.

“Sit down, please, you must be tired. Let me-“

“This is not a social call. Well yes, it is a bit, but not really,” Merrill babbled while reaching into the folds of her cloak. When she stretched out her hand, it held a round object hidden in dark, soft looking cloth.

Varric eyed it cautiously, still smiling. “Is that it?”

“I can’t guarantee it will work, but it’s your best shot,” Merrill replied while stepping forward and letting the object drop into Varric’s outstretched palm. It was surprisingly heavy.

“Can I-“

“I wouldn’t just yet. It’s volatile. More of an experiment than a tried and tested method, actually. So maybe just, you know, use it when you get there,” Merrill explained.

Varric raised an eye-brow at her, “You mean _we_ , don’t you?”

The slender elf straightened up and took a step back, already pulling the hood back up. “I’m sorry, this is all I can do.”

“But how do I use it? I’m a dwarf, remember, we don’t do magic!” Varric exclaimed, a tad bit desperate.

Merrill giggled, “I’m sure you’ll find a way. You are after all very crafty, child of the stone.”

“Was that supposed to be funny? You’re spending too much time with Chuckles.” The way she had addressed him right now had not gone unnoticed.

She immediately straightened up and turned toward the window, one foot already on the ledge, she said, “I walk with the Dread Wolf, it is not wise to cross him. Remember, you owe us a favour.” And then she was gone.

“Yeah, I’ll remember,” Varric whispered to the empty air, his stomach tied in knots as he closed his fist around the small orb.

*~*

**Dragon 9:32**

“Does everything you say have an agenda?” Fenris growled.

“Does everything you say sound like you’re a mangy cur on a leash?” Anders spat back.

“Mage!”

“Animal!”

Varric clamped his hands over his ears and shot Garrett, who had just stepped into the room, a pained look.

“I was only gone five minutes,” Hawke sighed.

Anders and Fenris didn’t notice or didn’t care, their noses were almost touching. Anders using his extra two inches to glare down at the elf while Fenris’s markings started to glow in rhythm with his heartbeat.

“You brought them into the family, you take care of them,” Varric declared, pointedly moving his chair around and away from the scene. He stared at the flames, trying not to snicker, while he listened to Hawke putting his foot down to break up the cat fight.

It felt like home.

*~*

**Dragon 9:45 - 13th Haring**

Bran Cavin, seneschal of Kirkwall, was fretting.

“Must I remind you that this is _not_ a good time,” he implored while the Viscount was slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.

“It’s never a good time, Bran. But it’s the perfect time to go and see old friends. I won’t be long,” Varric replied calmly as he marched past his second in command and down the stairs.

“But-!” Bran sighed. “Fine, do what you want. You always do. I’ll somehow keep the city from burning down - again!”

“Good man,” Varric smiled and walked up the plank onto a ship that would take him into the west.

The vessel docked at several ports. Passengers got on and off. Varric either scribbled in his notebook or slept. The journey turned out to be so dull, he found himself wishing Isabela’s fleet would attack, just to relieve the mind-numbing boredom. But whenever he started to wonder whether all of this was worth the trouble, his hand wandered into his heavy leather coat and closed around the magic bauble.

“Just a little longer, my friend,” he whispered and closed his eyes for another nap.

*~*

**Dragon 9:41**

Varric looked up from the parchment as he heard the footsteps approaching his desk I wont of the fireplace in the main hall.

“Well, if it isn’t the world’s most beautiful spymaster,” he greeted her but his smile slipped off his face as he caught the expression on Leliana’s.

He tried to swallow but his mouth had run dry. Even before she handed him the letter, he knew what it would say. Knew from her stance, her breathing, the way she didn’t quite meet his eyes that it contained death and destruction and heartache.

He took it anyway.

“Do you still need this?” he asked when he had finished.

“No.”

And without hesitation, Varric tossed it into the flames. It was gone in an instant, just like Hawke.

*~*

**Dragon 9:45 - 23rd Haring**

The Orlesian capital gleamed in the early morning sun. The bright light reflected off the armour of the two Knights who were flanking Varric as soon as his foot touched the quay.

“Can I help you?” he asked, feigning surprise.

“Seeker Pentaghast would like a word,” one of them muttered, his voice barely audible through the thick metal helmet.

“Of course she does,” Varric sighed and rolled his eyes.

Cassandra was waiting for him in the harbour master’s office. She hadn’t changed one bit, down to the sneer when she spotted him.

“You look as radiant as ever, Seeker!” Varric greeted her and, predictably, received a snort in response.

“Let’s cut to the chase. I got your message.”

“That much seemed obvious, given the very stately reception.” He indicated the closed door with a thumb where the two Templar guards undoubtedly waited on the other side.

“I didn’t want you to get lost.” Cassandra replied.

“You know I’ve been to Val Royeaux before, and in your company no less.”

She grunted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m sure you are aware the capital is volatile at best at the moment. The Inquisitor’s truce is only holding by a bare thread. Tensions are growing as the Divine is putting more pressure on the free mages to rejoin the Circle. And if this wasn’t enough, a new mage underground is operating right under our noses.”

Varric groaned as soon as the words “mage underground” had left Cassandra’s mouth. The phrase still left a bad taste in his mouth. He could almost smell the smoke and hear the screaming of people trying to flee in blind terror. Kirkwall had paid dearly for the ideals of the _mage underground,_ and was still trying to recover. Despite Varric’s best effort, his city was still struggling to rebuild what had been lost.

All traces of humour gone from his face, he asked, “It’s that bad?”

Cassandra uncrossed her arms. “It’s worse. But I won’t bore you with my worries.”

“What about your seekers?”

She sighed. “We are few and the new order is in its infancy. We are not ready, not for a few years at least. But let’s focus on why you’re here. I take it you have what you need?”

Varric nodded, “One half of it, yes. The other one-“

She cut him off, “Has been arranged and is waiting for you at the West Gate.”

Varric took a few hasty steps to a window and stared up into the sky.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for flying pigs.”

“Very funny,” Cassandra retorted dryly, making him chuckle.

“I have something for you.” Varric reached into his knapsack as he walked toward her, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“What’s this?” Cassandra asked warily as he pressed a small package into her hands.

“You still don’t have any friends, Seeker?” Varric asked, more salty than he had intended, but he was tired, and old habits died hard. But maybe the gift would make up for it.

It seems the feeling was mutual. She eye-balled him while she tore the brown packaging off. When she saw what is contained, the bitter lines of her face relaxed into something akin to awe.

“Oh my! Is…is this what I think it is?”

Varric smirked. “Everything must end some day - I’m just glad I got through it before my brain refused to cooperate any more.”

He watched as she opened the cover of the final instalment of “Swords and Shields”. It was gratifying to see Cassandra slap her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp when she spotted the dedication.  

“For my most loyal fan, C.P.,” she looked at him like a child who had been handed her favourite toy.

“Now, now,” he held his hands up and stepped backward, “don’t get all emotional on me. In all fairness, you’re probably the only person who is still reading this drivel.”

“It’s not- uhm,” Cassandra stopped, probably realising how futile arguing would be at this point. For once, she seemed inclined to just accept a gesture of goodwill for what it was. “Thank you. I mean it.”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, and looked at the floor. “Well, this is more awkward than I had anticipated. So before you start acting completely out of character and hug me, I’d better be on my way. The West Gate you say?”

“I wouldn’t-“ Cassandra growled, but then just made a face at him and said, “Yes. I dare say you will recognise them when you see them.”

“Them?”

“Them,” Cassandra confirmed. “The Templars will escort you safely through the city.”

Varric frowned at her. “Thanks, Seeker, but didn’t you just say a mage underground is on the prowl? Isn’t a Templar honour guard like painting a bullseye on my back?”

Cassandra raised an eye-brow.

He waved at her. “I’ll be all right. I think I can just about make it through a densely populated settlement in broad daylight by myself. And if push comes to shove, Bianca will do the talking.”

“That’s precisely what I’m trying to avoid!” Cassandra hissed.

Varric grinned at her. “Relax. Oh, I forgot, you don’t know how.”

She glared at him.

“It’ll be fine,” Varric chuckled, already walking toward the door.

“Varric?”

He looked over his shoulder, hand on the latch, “Yeah?”

“Good luck!”

He nodded once. “Thank you, Seeker,” and added almost as an afterthought, “may the Maker watch over you,” before he opened the door and left for the West Gate.

He did not hear Cassandra’s response, “And you…my friend.”

*~*

**Dragon 9:31**

Varric woke up in the middle of the night from tiny noise, out of place so deep under the surface.

There is was again.

He looked around. Blondie was still wrapped up in the folds of his cloak, which meant it wasn’t Darkspawn or else the healer would be blazing blue fire by now.

Varric got to his feet and stuck his head out of the chamber. It was Garrett.

He was sitting on the ground next to the entrance, face buried in his hands to stifle the sobs.

What should he do? Varric wondered. Should he go back and pretend he hadn’t seen? Should he bump Hawke on the shoulder and say, “Hey, chin up, at least Carver ain’t completely dead.” Just sentenced to a life hearing the song of the Archdemon or whatever the taint was while it was slowing killing him over the next decade or two.

No. Carver might still be breathing but he was lost, and Hawke was grieving. Maybe it was simple?

Varric took a deep breath and stepped outside. He sat next to the tall man, worming one hand behind Garrett’s back while the other stroked his hair.

He was a bit startled when Hawke turned and hugged him tightly, burying his face against Varric’s chest, and cried.

*~*

**Dragon 9:45 - 23rd Haring**

Varric hated horses because, although he had been born and raised on the surface, he did not like being quite that far off the ground if he could help it. Alas, is they wanted to make it to the ruins of Adamant in this age, they had no choice but to ride.

They made first camp at sunset. His two companions went about pitching tents and preparing food with practiced routine. Varric, a child of the city, helped by not getting in the way too much.

“So,” he began when they were sitting around the fire, “when did you get back, Alistair?”

The other man stopped sharpening his blade and looked up. Varric noticed that the lines around his eyes had deepened, and streaks of grey hair were visible at his temples, reminding the storyteller that Grey Wardens didn’t live to see a ripe, old age. The clock was ticking for the former heir to the Fereldan throne.

“About a month ago, I had…I was on my way south when I ran into Cassandra and she told me of your plan.” Even in the firelight, Varric could see Alistair’s ears were glowing bright red. Maybe it was good a good thing Queen Anora was the ruler of Fereldan, the man in front of him wouldn’t have lasted a week.

“Don’t get me wrong but I thought your order was banned on pain of death from even entering Orlais, not to mention Fereldan. I’m not even going to ask how you just run into the Seeker. She probably knew you were coming. You’re lucky you’re not rotting in a cell right now,” Varric scoffed.

Alistair shrugged, “If you are asking whether I was conscripted to come with you, the answer is no. I’m here because I owe Hawke a dept. We - the Wardens - maybe even all of Thedas do, and I may not have much, but I have my honour and I always pay my dues.” As soon as he had finished the sentence he looked at their third companion. “What? No, comment? That’s not like you at all.”

Morrigan swallowed the rest of her drink and cleared her throat, “I had my mouth full.”

Alistair grinned at her and was about to speak when he stopped mid-motion and tilted his head to the side as if he was listening.

“How many?” Morrigan asked.

“Just one.” He got up with a sigh, “I’ll be right back,” and disappeared into the night.

There was no need to ask what was going on, still, “This close to the capital? And it’s not even a Blight.”

The mage gave him a calculating look. “Not all Darkspawn lie down and wait until an Archdemon arises. And then there are those whose allegiance lies elsewhere entirely.”

She had barely finished when Alistair returned. There was no sign of a struggle on him. “And?” Varric asked as soon as the man entered the circle of light.

“Nothing to worry about,” Alistair replied but Varric saw him catching Morrigan’s eye and she replied with a nod.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m not interested in whatever secret plots you guys are tangled up in - as long as it doesn’t interfere with our mission,” Varric said jovially.

They looked at him and then at each other until Alistair sat down with a forced smile. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. Nothing will stop us from reaching Adamant, that much I can guarantee.”

Varric rose an eyebrow in the face of Alistair’s blank, fake cheerfulness. Instead, he turned toward the mage, “Change of subject, I know more or less why he is here now,” he indicated Alistair with a thumb, “but why would you risk your neck? As far as I know you have never even met Hawke and you don’t owe me either. Or wait-“ he gave Alistair a sly grin, “could this be -  a love story? Can’t bear to be apart?”

Both Morrigan and Alistair stared at Varric as if he had sprouted a second head before they both burst out laughing. Morrigan was the first to regain control, wiping tears out of the corner of her eyes. “Me, and _him_? Oh, you have no idea, don’t you?”

“I’d rather fight the archdemon again,” Alistair chimed in and smirked when Morrigan agreed, “Indeed.”

Varric shook his head, “It’s always sad when parents walk their separate ways, I hope your son is taking it well?”

It got so quiet so fast only the crackling of logs breaking up in the fire could be heard. “Struck a nerve?” Varric asked with a shrug.

“You’ve made your point, _spymaster_ .” Morrigan hissed. “We are keeping secrets from you, yes, but only because they do not concern you. We are here to assist you, so I’d suggest you choose your words more wisely next time, you’re supposed to be good with them. And if you ever talk like that about _my_ son again, well, just remember that not only do you need us more than we need you, in point of fact, we don’t need you _at all_.” She glared at him one last time before she got up and disappeared into her tent without another word.

Varric looked at Alistair. “Was it something said?”

“You got off lightly. But then again, she reserves the really good threats and insults for me. We have that special kind of bond, you know, well, apart from the obvious you just stuck your foot in. How did you know?”

“Let’s just say I happen to admire the herbs in Skyhold’s garden when I stumbled upon a family reunion. Besides, the boy has your eyes.”

“No, he does not!” Morrigan shouted from within the tent.

“He does,” Varric mouthed to Alistair who lowered his head, trying to suppress a chuckle.

“Well,” Varric sighed and got up, ignoring the protest in his knees, spine and other parts, “I’d better turn in. We have a long way ahead of us.”

*~*

**Dragon 9:34**

“Well, well, a nobleman! Should I curtsy?” Varric chuckled as he walked into Hawke’s newly acquired estate.

“Don’t!” his friend groaned. “You have no idea what a pain in the ass Hightown is. Remind me again why I wanted to live here?”

“Less piss-soaked sludge running through the gutter and… well, that’s about it.”

“And, it is your ancestral home which should’ve been yours by right when we arrived,” Leandra added as she stepped into the hall.

“Mother!” Hawke beamed.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Mistress Amell,” Varric greeted, pulling off a surprisingly elegant bow.

“Oh, stop that nonsense, Varric. Call me Leandra, after everything, we’re family, are we not?” she asked, and Varric’s heart broke at the sadness in her voice. Despite all her fortitude, she was still mourning the loss of her youngest son, but, evidently, she did not lay blame at Varric’s feet. He exhaled a breath he had not even noticed holding.

“Of course we are,” Garrett said, pulling them both into a tight hug.

*~*

**Dragon 9:45 - 29th Haring**

They rode for almost a week until they reached the Western Approach and soon the edge of the Abyssal Reach came into view. The closer they got to Adamant, the more anxious Varric became, always pressing to go an hour longer before making camp which, much to his frustration, his companions usually turned down with the stoic patience of seasoned travellers. It was also pretty much the only time Alistair and Morrigan agreed on anything while spending the rest of their travels throwing barbs and witticisms at each other.

It had been amusing the first three days reminding Varric of Fenris and Anders constantly bickering until Hawke would sling his big arms around their shoulders, forcing them to kiss and make up, or so the Maker help him, he would do it for them. It usually did the trick.

However, Varric’s arms were too short for that and as they crossed the border into the Western Approach, his nerves started to fray at the edges until he yelled one evening, “Get a room already and get it out of your system!” Before he stomped off into his own tent, leaving the quarrelling definitely not love birds to stare at his retreating back. The last thought Varric had that night before he fell asleep was that Hawke would have laughed his head off.

Despite the season, the days were uncomfortably warm and windy, constantly blowing sand at them which got stuck in all sort of places where sand had no business being in.

“The things I do for you,” Varric mumbled under his breath as he spat on the ground in a futile attempt to get the grit out from between his teeth. “How much further?” he shouted to be heard over the wind.

Alistair turned in the saddle. “We should be able to see what’s left of it just before nightfall.”

“Then we should make camp and approach well rested in the morning,” Morrigan suggested, and despite his urgency Varric was inclined to agree this time. Too much depended on this to charge in foolhardily and tired.

They camped in a ravine which also contained a rare fresh water spring, giving everyone a welcome chance to freshen up. Alistair excused himself shortly after dinner and disappeared into the night.

When Varric looked at Morrigan she explained, “We are close to their nests. The Reach is teeming with Darkspawn - Blight or no Blight. He can hear them more clearly, especially after all this time.”

“There is no tactful way to ask this. How much longer does he have, do you know?”

She shrugged. “Some hear the Calling in their first year, others bear it longer. He does seem more resilient to the taint but even he will meet his fate like all of his kind when his time comes. Unless-“

“Unless?”

“Unless we find a way to cure the taint.”

Varric’s eyes went wide, “Is that even possible?”

What wouldn’t Hawke give to be able to save his brother’s life? What if Varric could tell him it was an option?

“We shall see,” Morrigan replied with a mysterious smile.

“Is that why you’re here?” Varric had not breached the subject again until now.

She made a face at him. “Tsk. No.” She reached into a pouch on her belt and took out the orb Merrill had given him. He had handed it to her on their second night and she had not seen it fit to return it, claiming the need to study it in detail if she was to be of assistance. Varric had agreed through clenched teeth.

She held it in front of her face. It was made of silverite, or so it seemed, which had been twisted in intricate patterns around a core of lyrium.

“I can feel the dormant energy inside,” Morrigan explained, her eyes focussed on the bauble.

A thought struck Varric, “Do your voices tell you what this is?”

Morrigan looked at him and smiled, the first genuine smile he had ever seen on her face. “They do indeed.”

Varric leaned back. “Ah. Now I see. This is about your mother, isn’t it?”

The smile vanished. “Perhaps,” she conceded.

“I thought you had to do her bidding since you drank from her well?”

Morrigan gritted her teeth and snarled, “I may be unable to resist a direct command but I’ve a mind of my own, and I will follow my own path whether she likes it or not!”

Varric frowned. “What does that have to do with Hawke?”

The silence stretched for several minutes while Morrigan stared into the flames, lost in thought. When she spoke, Varric was almost startled to hear her voice. “Mythal is an ally of Fen’harel who wants to unmake the world as we know it. I spent a great a deal of time thinking about this and I have come to the conclusion that I cannot allow him to succeed.”

Varric took a sharp breath, “You do know that he actually gave me that thing to try and free Hawke from the Fade, right?”

“Yes, and what exactly did that cost you, dwarf?” Morrigan asked sharply.

He blanched. “I…I don’t know yet. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, okay?”

“Tsk. Fool! But no matter, him wanting Hawke out of the Fade tells me that there is a good chance your friend is alive, and he is causing problems.”

Varric sprang up. “Are you sure?” Up until that moment, all Varric had was the desperate wish to see his friend again. He had sat out on a reckless quest to do the impossible, but only now did he dare to have any hope that he might actually succeed.

Morrigan smirked. “Why else would he assist you? He is sentimental, but, if I remember correctly, there was never much love lost between you two.”

“You can say that again,” Varric confirmed and sat back down.

She raised her finger. “I’m almost certain, Hawke is alive, and he is causing trouble in the Fade, Fen’harel’s championed domain.”

Varric cackled, “Sounds like him, all right!”

“Which is why we need him back here,” Morrigan continued. The smile vanished from Varric’s face as he listened. “When Fen’harel tries to tear down the veil, we will need Hawke to stand by our side if we want to have any hope of success. Come what may, Thedas needs a Champion.”

“Yes,” Varric agreed, “I think you’re right.”

*~*

**Dragon 9:34**

“Champion of Kirkwall, what does that even mean?” Hawke hiccupped.

“Dunno, never heard of him, but I’m glad it’s you. Cheers!” Varric slurred, trying to clink his bottle against Garrett’s without falling out of his chair. It didn’t work.

“Bugger, you okay down there, Varric?” Hawke asked. “Oh, shouldn’t look down.”

Varric tried to roll out of the way as Hawke’s face above him turned an unhealthy shade of green. “Nonononono.” He struggled to his feet like an upside down turtle and pulled Hawke back against the chair.

“Thanks, Varric. I can…can always count on you!” Hawke sighed before he started to snore with his head tiled back.

“There, there,” Varric patted his friend’s shoulder on the third try and pried the still half-full bottle form his unresisting hands. He took a sip and placed it unsteadily on the table before he staggered to a chest in the corner and pulled out a blanket. He draped it over his sleeping friend before crawled into his own bed and passed out.

Their combined snoring mixing with the muffled, drunken chanties ringing up the stairs from the tavern below.

*~*

**Dragon 9:45 - 31st Haring**

Varric wasn’t sure what he had expected but reality turned out to be somewhat underwhelming. Cullen’s forces had done a good job razing the fortress to the ground, only foundation walls, charred and brittle, remained.

“Is that it?” Varric wondered.

“This is it!” Alistair confirmed with a shrug. “Over there,” he pointed to a round outline in the rubble. “This is where we came back out of the Fade.”

“Yes,” Morrigan had her eyes closed, hand outstretched, she seemed to touch something invisible to the naked eye. “The veil is so thin here, I could tear it open with a light spell.”

“Then let’s make it a bigger one. Have you figured out how that thing is going to help us find Hawke, and bring him back?” Varric pointed at the orb in her other hand.

She smiled at him, but it was not a nice smile. “This,” she held the bauble higher, “is a beacon. We won’t have to find Hawke, it will help him find us.”

“How?”

“You have a strong bond with him, have you not?”

For some reason the hairs on the back of Varric’s neck stood on end. He suddenly remembered what exactly Merrill’s magical field of expertise was, and he didn’t like it one bit. He nodded, “He’s my best friend. He and I, we lost our brothers in the Deep Roads, and we both found another by the time we made it back to the surface. And this time, I won’t let him down.”

“Then you know what I need to make this work,” Morrigan remarked.

Varric caught Alistair’s eye and was surprised not to see more resistance or accusations there. He had thought given how this mess had started in this very place, the Grey Warden would have more reservations about using blood magic again.

Alistair caught his eye and sighed. “No, I don’t like it, but I know it’s the only way.”

“How much do you need?” Varric asked, drawing his dagger.

“I’ll know it when it works.”

“That’s not very reassuring!” Varric snapped and hissed when the blade cut deep into his wrist. He was no stranger to injuries but he knew that he couldn’t keep this wound open for long or he would faint, or worse.

Morrigan nodded at Alistair who stood, sword ready.

She began to intone a spell in the ancient language of the elves, her voice echoing with a whisper of a forgotten world. Varric bit his lip, his blood dripping onto the charred earth.

Static crackled along his hair, making him feel all sorts of wrong, his vision started to blur. “Hawke,” he whispered, sinking down on one knee. Green light exploded around him.

“WAKE UP!” Morrigan suddenly yelled in his ear. A potion was pressed against his lips. He gulped it down.

“Bleh, what is this? Tastes like ass!”

“Shut up and fight, we have company! HA!” Morrigan snarled before she hurled herself into the fray, transforming into a giant spider in mid-air and landing on the shade about to sink its claws into Alistair’s back.

Varric was on his feet, Bianca ready and loaded, firing a salvo of poisoned arrows into a group of corpses; he could still make out the blue and silver armour hanging on their shambling forms. Poor bastards!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the one living Grey Warden in their midst pirouetting and decapitating a revenant about to yank the human-again Morrigan off her feet. Whatever their other differences, they clearly worked well as a team.

Varric looked up and saw the orb hovering in midair, sending a green beam of light into the huge tear in the veil. His hands trembled when he spied the writhing horrors on the other side. Vague shapes and movements, promising unbearable pain and terror.

“Hawke,” he whispered again. How did anyone go in there and come back? For an instant, Varric lost all hope. It had been a noble task, a mad idea, worthy of his friend, but seeing it with his own eyes, Varric’s heart faltered as more and more demons poured into the real world.

He fired again and again until he had but two loads of bolts left. “WE CAN’T KEEP THIS UP FOREVER!” he shouted.

Morrigan struck a rage demon with an icy blast and watched it melt into nothing. Alistair had his back pressed to hers, guarding her blind spot. They were surrounded.

“CLOSE THE DAMN PORTAL!” Varric yelled.

Morrigan looked at him with narrowed eyes and shock her head.

Alistair let out a wry chuckle, “Oh, we’ve had worse! Let’s give the man a chance.”

Varric groaned. “Oh, come on. HAWKE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

Like a swooping high dragon a figure leaped out of the rift. “ROOOAAARRR!” Snowflakes and ice whirled, the wind howled, freezing the ring off demons solid.

Alistair and Morrigan whooped and sprang apart dealing killing blows with sword and staff, shattering their enemies to pieces.

Varric’s mouth hung open as he watched the figure, clad in back leather and a crimson cape, straighting up from where he had landed. Even before the red hood was pulled back, Varric screamed, “HAWKE, THE BALL!”

Hawke turned around with a puzzled expression and mouthed, “Ball? What ball?”

“THAT BALL!” Varric fired his last bolts at the new wave of corpses while trying to indicate the glowing orb in the sky with his chin.

Hawke looked up. “Oh!” He hit the thing with stone fist, knocking it to the ground where it rolled across the floor, steaming and crackling with residue magic. The portal closed instantly. Without reinforcements, the remaining demons were dispatched easily enough. When the last of them vanished, Varric slung Bianca on is back and sighed. He was tired, his clothes stank of demon entrails and he felt so happy he could cry.

There stood Garrett Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, Hero of Adamant and-

“Varric!” Hawke exclaimed and caught him in a tight hug. Varric’s feet left the ground as Hawke swung him around. “I missed you!”

“Hold shit!” was all Varric could say and hugged his friend back. "We did it." 

*~*

Later, close to midnight, they were sitting around the campfire, belching after a satisfying meal of burned gurn. Predictably, Hawke had taken the news he had missed four years in the real world in a stride.

“But hey, I still have these beauties,” he flexed his biceps, “and all my own hair.” He waggled his eyebrows at Morrigan who tsked and looked away in disgust.

“Your loss!” Hawke chirped and moved on to other things. “Now that we’re all cozy, boy, have I got news for you!” he said, rubbing his hands. “Get this, Solas, that baldy elf, always going on about the golden, olden days, he is - you guys won’t believe this but - he is Fen’harel! _The_ Fen'harel as in the elven trickster god of legend!” He leaned back, waiting for stunned awe.

“Yeah, we know,” they replied in chorus, stealing his thunder.

“Huh, you do?” Hawke raised an eyebrow. “Okay but, did you know that it was actually his orb and that he had given it to Corypheus to unlock it?” he tried again.

“We know.”

“Do you know that red lyrium is corrupted titan blood?”

They all nodded.

“How about Mythal and Flemeth - same person?”

“She is, in fact, my mother,” Morrigan remarked casually, her mouth twisting into a smirk when Hawke choked on his drink, staring at her bug eyed.

“No way!”

Alistair grinned, “Yeah, and she has to do her mother’s every bidding.”

Morrigan hurled her mug at Alistair who caught it in mid-air, looked inside and drank the rest of her drink that had miraculously not spilled out. Morrigan huffed, wiping her mouth, and not quite hiding her smirk behind her hand.

Hawke looked from one to the other before catching Varric’s eye, making an obscene gesture with his hands. Varric chuckled into his cup and nodded.

“So where am I going to sleep?” Hawke asked, chin in his hand and leering at Morrigan who leaned away from him. Everyone pretended not to notice Alistair’s scowl.

“Not on your life! My services only extended to bringing you back because Thedas might need your assistance against a crazy, ancient god who wants to destroy the world. And you seem to not be completely incompetent.”

“Wow, that was a ringing endorsement coming from her,” Alistair remarked. “You must have really impressed.”

“So, about my bed-“ Hawke tried again.

“The dwarf wanted you back so badly, he made a deal with the enemy. Sleep with him!” Morrigan suggested, her nose wrinkling in disdain.

“You did _what_?”

“Yeah it will come and bite me in the ass later.” Varric admitted and added, “oh, don’t go all puppy eyes on me! Hey, I’m badass enough to admit I missed you. The world is just not the same without you. But you’re not sleeping in my tent.”

“But-“

“Hawke, you’re huge!”

“I know!” Garrett agreed, leering at Morrigan again who narrowed her eyes at him.

“You can have my tent. I’m used to sleeping outside and it’s a lovely night,” Alistair offered. Everyone looked up at the fast moving clouds, they occasionally blocked out the stars. It didn’t often rain in the Western Approach but when it rained, it poured. Alistair chuckled nervously. “It will be fine.”

“They don’t want the veil torn down,” Hawke said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention back to him.

“Meaning?” Morrigan enquired.

“The spirits - oh, the demons do! But there are factions in the Fade. Spirits who love having a place of their own. They don’t want it to change back. They remember being enslaved by the living world.”

“But isn’t this precisely what Chuck- I mean Solas wants to prevent? He said something about cancelling conflicting impulses - I didn't really understand it?” Varric asked.

“Not all spirits agree with him. They were part of the world, yes, but they remember how our reality was so strong, so compelling, they lost free will, forcing its shape onto them. It’s complicated, but they oppose his plans and they are ready to stand with us.”

“And who exactly is “us”?” Alistair wondered.

“You know - us - we few, we happy few. We, who are corporeal. We, who want to keep the world the way it is.” Hawke looked at their astonished faces and leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk. “So, I bring you news after all. Good to know that my four years on vacation weren’t a complete waste of time.”

They all exchanged glances, digesting the information. Morrigan closed her eyes, listening. “Yes, you speak the truth.”

Hawke gave Varric a puzzled look.

“She hears voices,” Varric shrugged.

“They were in the water.” Alistair added.

Hawke peered into his mug and whispered. “Hello?”

Varric’s groan turned into a chuckle. “I missed you so much, you stupid, big oaf!”

Garrett looked up and smiled, “Yeah, it’s good to be back. Hey, Varric?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy New Day! And, thank you.”

Varric swallowed around the lump in his throat. It was after midnight, 1st Wintermarch 9:46. Four years. Four years not seeing scruffy-bearded muscles-for-brains, not hearing his awful jokes, or seeing him trying to charm his way into someone’s pants, or saving the world. He had missed it all.

“Any time, Garrett. That’s what family is for. Happy New Day.”

The End

 


End file.
